


War is Something You Do in Public, Love is Something You Do in Private

by Camirye_T_Brewin, riddlemethis_21



Series: High School Never Ends [1]
Category: Transformers - All Media Types, Transformers Generation One
Genre: (but kind of), Lots of others - Freeform, Ratchet and Starscream are the moms of the factions, Starscream's kind of a lowkey hopeless romantic, Teenagers being confused about love and friendships, There's quite a bit of gender-bending in this, What else is new, not really - Freeform, sorry - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-03-27
Updated: 2016-04-03
Packaged: 2018-05-29 08:32:03
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,835
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6366961
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Camirye_T_Brewin/pseuds/Camirye_T_Brewin, https://archiveofourown.org/users/riddlemethis_21/pseuds/riddlemethis_21
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A story about two teens heading factions because they are too stubborn to admit their feelings for each other. A story about a friendship broken apart by parental units and a girl's pride. A story about a misunderstood bad boy and a misunderstood good girl. A story about how espionage really isn't as hard as everyone thinks it is (not at all). And a story about how the harder you try to hate, the faster you fall in love.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> This is a work by my sister and me as a (somewhat) experiment to put the Transformers in a humanized setting. We've seen it done a couple times before, but we're going to attempt a Big-Bang type of fic. Please let us know if you guys like this so we know whether or not to put time into to this-- even kudos are appreciated here! ^_^ 
> 
> Summary by me, title by my sister, shared work throughout.

Star had been sitting in the chair for what seemed like hours (patience had never been her strongest suit), but she knew the end results would be worth it. Her hair was getting lighter by the minute—good thing too, because it hadn’t burned, but the “intense tingling” she’d first described was now a somewhat uncomfortable ache in her scalp. The only bleaching Star had done before was in highlights, getting her hair from her natural color, to medium and light brown tones. She smirked when she thought about Maxx’s reaction. The selfish brute used to play with her long, raven hair and croon about its loveliness and length. Now it was cut down with dark, natural sides and a blond ‘hawk. Part of her already missed her hair and all the different styles she used to use on it, but she still didn’t regret the decision. In fact, she embraced the change in her appearance that would have to mean a change in her treatment and how everyone viewed her. 

Finally, the stylist came back and washed out her hair, leaving a golden, orangey blond behind. _‘No turning back now,’_ Star thought, a little nervous. When they made eye contact through the mirror, however, she gave the other woman her practiced, most confident smile. “Let’s do this!”

The length change and bleaching wasn’t the only thing that had the young Italian-American anxious, though. She’d really wanted to stick it to her narcissist of a leader after their most recent argument, so she’d told them to throw in different shades of red, purple, blue and magenta for good measure. Star may have been impulsive about many things, but those that knew her even a little knew how much thought and care went into her appearance. Many called her vain, but she just preferred to look good, call it what you will. The stylist parted her hair in many different ways, apologizing every time she thought she was causing the younger girl discomfort. Laughing it off politely, Star told her about being raised in an Italian home and how that can thicken the skin. As the other joined in the laugh Star thought, _‘See, Megatron? I can be cordial and polite whenever I please.’_

Being left for a few moments so her professional could mix the colors, Star took the time to look around the salon. Women were exchanging stories about their love lives, men were talking about whether or not times had changed enough to be comfortable about taking care of their looks. Her eyes fell on a small child who was throwing a tantrum over having his hair cut, presumably for the first time. She frowned. “I know the feeling kid,” she muttered while glancing back at the large mirror. 

Apparently, Star’s stylist had enough confidence in her coloring abilities to not use foil separators—that definitely hiked Star’s anxiety about the whole thing. But she decided to keep quiet for now rather than let on how unsure she felt about it. Maxx’s reaction would be worth it enough in the end, right? She just had to keep looking at the goal and ignore the process. 

Fuck Maxx. 

About thirty minutes later, she was left to process, left to play the waiting game again, left to her thoughts and observations. At least her brothers, Skye and Thunder, were here with her. That thought didn’t give her much relief, though, since they liked to make fun of and tease her about anything and everything—the last thing she needed right now was them mucking up her confidence like they had when they were children. As a child, and even now if she met strangers and her friends and family were not around, Star would tell people her name was Stella. She hated how “hippie” her name sounded and, more than once, she’d entertained the notion that her parents had been on drugs when they had named their kids (though, Skye had been adopted). Thunder and Skye used to make fun of her for it, Thunder calling himself “Thor” and her childhood friend, Jett, “Rocket.”

Jett. There was a boy she didn’t like to dwell upon. Luckily, she didn’t have to because that was when her stylist came back to wash the excess color out of her hair. 

“I’m going to use cold water.” Something about closing the cuticles. 

“Okay.” Star could handle a little cold water—she was tougher than her small and slender frame made her look (a side effect of her Italian heritage and being around Maxx for being long). The massage from the wash felt good, Star had to admit—felt better actually, since there wasn’t a lot of thick hair in the way. The stylist hadn’t been kidding about the temperature of the water, though. No matter, however, Star could tough it out. 

And she was right. Soon enough, she was done. She hardly recognized the girl gazing back at her through the mirror, but that just meant her goal was completed. No one could treat her the same anymore, like a vain child in need of reprimand. Yes, she’d finally be treated as the badass second-in-command—soon to be the badass leader—of a badass faction. Everyone else who thought otherwise could suck it. 

*~_*~_*~_*~_*~_*~_*~_*~_*~_

School the following Monday was definitely an adventure. Kevin was the first to see it, meeting her as she was getting out of her car. “What the fuck did you do to your hair?!” He screech was like a banshee and Star didn’t want a headache. Not that she appreciated the implication of his statement either. 

“I cut it.” The reply was simple and clipped, with no room for argument. Apparently, though, Kevin didn’t understand simple semantics. 

“I dunno if Maxx is gonna like it,” he murmured. He ran his hands through what little hair she had left. She smacked his hand with an incredulous expression. 

“What the hell gave you the right to touch my hair? It certainly wasn’t me,” hissing angrily, Star pushed past him to begin making her way toward the front steps of the school. He quickly caught up, however, her short frame no match for his long legs. 

“Sorry.” He held his hands up in a half-attempt at appeasement, but it was well enough—she didn’t need to make a childish scene right now after going through all the trouble she had on Saturday. “So what are you going to tell him?” 

“Who?”

“Maxx, of course. He’s gonna flip when he sees. You know he is.” 

“Maxx is of no concern to me. He’s leader enough to be of concern to the Decepticons in general.” Ignoring his shocked expression, she continued. “ _If_ he decides to come at me sideways, I will let him know what is and is _not_ appropriate to say to me. Now, let’s go. I didn’t unveil the grownup Star to be late to class.” She knew she had time to figure out how exactly she was going to pull that off without dying, never really seeing Maxx during Mondays, Wednesdays, and Fridays until sitting with those in the faction who had the same lunch. Luckily for their _glorious_ leader, those Decepticons included the commanding staff (with the exception of Sean). 

Taking her seat beside Kevin in the first class of her “B” day, English, she smirked at the surprised stares and hushed tones starting up about her hair. Yeah, this Star could handle whatever hurdles today threw her way. 

She was sure of it.


	2. Chapter One-A

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Star's reputation around the school begins to change, the officers and superiors between the factions talk about the "war" (and their personal lives), and a newcomer arrives.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The format of this one will be a bit different than the last due to time restraints, but we hope it won't be too jarring. ^_^'
> 
> Camirye

Maxx Truman was pissed. He was _fucking_ pissed. Rumors had been flying around the school ever since he arrived that day. If they were true…. Suddenly, he saw a bright Mohawk of rainbow colors. But only for a moment because afterwards he only saw red.

“Star!”

For a moment, he thought maybe he was wrong. The thought admittedly filled him with relief. It was only someone who _looked_ like Star. Who _looked_ like Star and was stupid enough to color their hair like they lost a fight with a coloring book. But then, the figure tried to inconspicuously look back to see if Maxx was still searching for them.

That fucking asshole.

How dare she?

How. _Dare_. She?

“Star, don’t you—”

But she was already gone, weaving through the crowd of academic proles as if her life depended on it. (And it kinda did.) That was okay, though.

He’d get her at lunch.

*~_*~_*~_*~_*~_*~_*~_*~_*~_

Jazz couldn’t understand why people glared at him so much in the hallways. Okay, so he taught himself how to make those cool roller sneakers that came out when they were kids. So he used them to move faster wherever he went including, but not limited to, his locker and classes. That didn’t make him a bad person. Others just needed to get out of the way a bit faster was all. 

Also, he couldn’t always hear if people heard him call out warnings or not when he was wearing his headphones (which was anytime he wasn’t in class, obviously). When he saw Prentice marching down the hall with his usual brand of quiet authority, though, he had to make a beeline for him. 

“Sup?” He asked cheerily, a grin forming across his face and causing his dimples to come out. Prentice barely spared him a passing glance as he picked out needed items from the locker he’d arrived at. 

“I have a minute and thirty-seven seconds to obtain everything I need and arrive at my next class.” That was when he closed the locker door and fixed Jazz with a stern expression. “As do you,” he stated flatly, moving past the addressed to make the journey. Jazz easily fell into step beside him, though. 

“Yeah, well,” he yawned loudly. He really needed to make enough time in the mornings for a better breakfast than just toast and a small water bottle—that’s what Prentice always said anyway. “My class is right next to yours, right? So, there’s no reason we can’t walk there together, know what I’m saying?” Prentice just rolled his eyes when Jazz started toward a drinking fountain in the same hallway as their classrooms. 

“Fourteen seconds,” he called to Jazz’s back. The other Autobot just waved in acknowledgement. He was thirsty, having had his water bottle run out of water before second period was even halfway through, and he had plenty of time to fill it. Finishing up at the fountain, he glanced up at the clock and cursed, running toward the closing door of his class. 

The bell rang. 

*~_*~_*~_*~_*~_*~_*~_*~_*~_

Seeing Maxx in that hallway on her way to third period had nearly given Star a heart attack. She hadn’t expected to see Maxx at all before lunch period, which had to mean he’d already begun to hear about it. Shit. Damage control would have to be done a lot sooner than anticipated. She frowned, teeth beginning to nibble unconsciously at her bottom lip. 

Staring unseeingly at the opened notebook she’d laid out for herself, she began to think up suitable excuses. _I’m trying out a new style for myself since I’ve started playing guitar_. No, Maxx would never believe it. The guitar playing he’d taught her, but she would have changed her wardrobe long before thinking about lopping her hair to bits. 

Shit. Shit, shit, shit, shit, _shit_.

This was bad. This was really bad. Normally, she could come up with a story for Maxx almost instantaneously, but how could she justify this? What could she say? _Oh, yeah. I cut off my hair because you’re one of the few people who really gets under my skin and I knew this was one of the last things about me you still liked_? Yeah, that wouldn’t send her right back to square one. She’d be the laughing stock of the two factions. 

She’d think of something by lunch, or she’d save Maxx the fricking trouble. 

*~_*~_*~_*~_*~_*~_*~_*~_*~_

Riley couldn’t believe she was back at this school. She really couldn’t. When her parents made that move to London four years ago, she’d assumed it was a permanent one. And for her father, it was. But her mother couldn’t take being so far away from her own parents when they decided to get sick last summer, so here Riley was again. It would have been better, except for the fact that her friends from before the first move were trying to attack her at every turn, trying to get her to join some stupid “robot war” or whatnot. Someone bumped into her from behind.

“Hey, watch where you’re going, freak,” he muttered.

“Sure thing, asshat. As soon as I evolve eyes in the back of my head,” she replied before his retreating form was out of earshot.

“Moron.”

Her hand clenched around an imaginary wrench she’d given up years ago in favor of an interest in medicine. If she’d had it, though. She sighed.

Today was going to be a long day.

*~_*~_*~_*~_*~_*~_*~_*~_*~_

Kevin felt bad for Star; people were already starting to talk. And they were crazy rumors too. He didn’t know what Maxx knew yet, but it was going to be bad. That much was a given.

Some guy gave him a once-over as he entered his third period classroom. And despite his previous headspace, he couldn’t help but wink back at the guy, smiling slightly at the small blush he received. He was still hot, after all, regardless of Star’s current situation.

Star.

Poor girl.

Though, the most worrisome part of the whole thing, if Kevin were truly honest with himself, wasn’t Maxx’s reaction. It was Star’s action in the first place. It really was a rocking haircut, even if the style came out of the blue for her. But it was also her vanity screaming out for help. As the Deception in charge of physical and mental well-being, he couldn’t stand by and let her destroy her physical image without helping to some extent with damage control. He would have to skip fifth to attend lunch with her. It was for her benefit.

If he got two lunch breaks because of it, it was a sacrifice he would have to make.

*~_*~_*~_*~_*~_*~_*~_*~_*~_

Orla Paxton really was trying to mind her own business. Really. But when she’d heard Maxx’s voice calling out in the hallway, her ears perked. It was her duty as Autobot leader to know what he was up to, right? She certainly thought so, and it might even hold up in court if need be.

“Star!”

Orla’s heart clenched painfully, in spite of itself. No matter how many times she reminded herself that Maxx ended their friendship because he was a manipulating, back-stabbing, little—

_'Calm down, Orla,'_ she told herself. A good leader fighting for tolerance should relate those same values to her own life.

“Star, don’t you—”

Then again.

There were those she secretly enjoyed punching in the face, even if she told her faction a different story.

*~_*~_*~_*~_*~_*~_*~_*~_*~_

It was honestly more than a little frustrating when you had no important faction members in your classes, or even lunch really, and there were concerning rumors beginning to spread about one of its officers. Why did Maxx even keep her in the officer circle, much less the faction itself? Sean had to ask himself on a nearly hourly basis. The Decepticon second-in-command, Star _scream_ as she liked to be called, caused more headaches for the commander than he’d like to think about right now. Especially when he had Autobot classmates who were whispering and glancing his way every few seconds. 

He made a few menacing expressions and gestures and settled down into his seat to ready himself for the start of class and the lecture. He found it hard to focus on Eastern European history, however, when he caught a few of the murmurings. “I heard she got into a really bad argument with her parents and cut off all her hair in an act of rebellion.”

“Yeah, but you’re forgetting the part where she chopped up her parents first.” 

“Aw, sick, dude!”

“I saw her, and you’re all wrong. I saw her, and she shaved her head and is wearing a kind of beanie-wool hat or something—I think she has cancer.” 

“Sad… do you think we should get her flowers?”

“For a Decepticon, are you crazy? A card, maybe, but she’d probably sacrifice the flowers to Megatron—just saying.”

“I hate you, Star,” Sean muttered to himself. And he did. 

He truly hated her.

*~_*~_*~_*~_*~_*~_*~_*~_*~_

Ian Hyde loved being a TA. So what if it was an unpaid, volunteer class? It still counted on credits earned. So what if he was called a teacher’s pet by many of the other students? They just didn’t know the pleasure of a hard day’s work, then. Besides, getting in the teachers’ good graces never hurt—when they saw you as the good kid you were, it tended to pay off in situations of “my word against yours.”

Putting the teacher’s graded papers on the desk on the right side and today’s homework to be handed out on the left in neat piles, he heard talking among the sophomores and freshmen in this class. He glanced up at the clock above the door and noticed that, though the instructor had yet to arrive, the time for class to begin had come and gone by a nearly half a minute. He gave them all a friendly but firm look and smiled when they stopped talking. 

Ms. Zeta walked into the quieted classroom and, seeing her students well-behaved state, sent Ian a look of approval. During the lecture, however, Ian found it a bit difficult to keep his attention focused on the lesson when his stomach started growling softly. Thankfully, Ms. Zeta seemed not to have noticed, but all thoughts began to turn to lunch. _'And who will be at the lunch table,'_ he thought with a small, yet creeping blush. 

It was no real secret among the Autobots who knew him well that he had known Riley Chaim since before her family’s big move to England. And it wasn’t a secret to one Optimus Prime that he’d had a crush about as long as he’d known her. He didn’t think Riley remembered trying to catch frogs in the creek behind his house, or her teaching him about the constellations in the night sky on his trampoline—what they could see past the light pollution anyway. That didn’t matter, though, having her back was good enough for now, at least. He could work on regaining that close friendship later. Just then, the bell rang, pulling him from his thoughts and making him grin. 

One more period to go. 

*~_*~_*~_*~_*~_*~_*~_*~_*~_

Sara was a quiet person. When she needed to talk, she chose to speak into a voice changer that made her voice a type of sing-song robotic tone. She was bullied for it—when people noticed her presence, but she didn’t care. She was obviously superior to those idiots surrounding her anyway. And then someone just had to whisper.

“Did you hear about Star?”

Sara sighed to herself. Of course.

“Yeah, something about cutting her hair in a ploy to get her family to disown her. That way she could run away and run a real Mafia with Maxx.”

“No, she _killed_ her parents. Chopped them up and then cut her hair to match. Rumor has it that when Maxx confronts her about it, she might just kill him too.”

Sara could help the small snort. First, Star couldn’t kill anyone. She just wasn’t capable of that much. Second, the police and the media would have picked up on the murder of Star’s parents had they actually happened. Star wasn’t that subtle. But, no, these little children could believe what they wanted to. They would make fantastic investigative reporters one day. She should know. It was already there, just waiting to bloom into success.

Idiots.

Anyway, Maxx probably already knew and would confront her at lunch. Sean also probably knew, but didn’t really have a way of seeing what was going with Star until after the school day ended. Sara frowned. She would have to take a picture of Star’s cut and send it to Sean over MMS. As an officer, he had to know the facts as soon as the others did.

“She’s crying out for help. She doesn’t want to be a Deception anymore.”

“Hey, are you guys talking about Star?”

Sara smirked to herself, ducking her head so no one else would see. Star had a long day in front of her. And honestly? Sara couldn’t wait.

*~_*~_*~_*~_*~_*~_*~_*~_*~_

Prentice Walker’s fourth period was his favorite time of his A or B days. Fourth period was freedom as well as structure. Regulation and providing peace through law just made his soul contented. Yes—every day of the week during his fourth period Study Hall, Prentice Walker was the Hall Monitor. He found himself frowning at the memory of how many people thought it a boring or sadistic job, but of course he found that he couldn’t agree with their assessments. There were many students he’d caught smoking in the courtyard, ditching class out by the back doors, he’d even caught a couple having a rather fun time in one of the bathrooms. He allowed himself a small smirk.

Until he’d found them, that is. 

Still, he scoffed at the idea that it could be considered sadistic by his peers to simply enforce the rules. Rules, by nature, were not sadistic. Punishments, perhaps, but the school hardly had the power or willingness to harm their students in any way (regardless of what said students thought). It also wasn’t his fault that a laughably vast majority of the students he’d caught were Decepticons—perhaps those lazy good-for-nothings should attend their classes and learn how to be upstanding citizens of this fine establishment. 

_'Besides,'_ he thought as he looked over a girl’s pass he’d seen walking down the hall, _'Autobots know how to ask for a pass to be out in the hallways.'_

Too soon, fourth period was over, and he headed toward the cafeteria to meet up with other officers and members of the Autobots. He did find enjoyment in their company, after all. When he got there, however, and laid eyes on the spectacle taking place, it took everything in him not to add a facepalm to the pinching of his nose bridge while sighing and hanging his head. 

_'Primus, help us all.'_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, this is half of the first chapter and the second part will be posted later today (after I've had some sleep). Hopefully, we've explained some more of the Autobots and Deceptions and what their human names are. If you like this universe, let us know! We love hearing your thoughts! Until later!
> 
> ~riddle

**Author's Note:**

> Hope you guys liked it. We'd love to hear your feedback!


End file.
